Wednesday, February 11

the key pharoh is in place
ready to enslave
so many willing
so many
so I ride into space
close my eyes
&
fade away
I have no idea why it is this way
&
why people don't want TRUE change
I suppose they just don't know
as all their lives they've been killing themselves
whilst convincing themselves it is ok
nations secretly wishing for death
if I could destroy this spoon fed hate
&
pain
I would
just tell me where
&
how
may good fortune be upon you
may you see through the lies
pray for protection from subliminal messages
&
manipulation
we are much more than what we've been told
I wait upon the shore of distant galaxies for you
dreaming you will one day join me

Wednesday, February 4

Badlands. They really don't look so bad; plenty of green scrub at least. But at some point someone had to cross this on a wagon, and it probably wasn't wonderful.

You can't really control anything. Someone designed this ride long before we got on. The drops and turns and 360's have been in place for some time now and there's nothing we can do to change them. The only thing I can even think of controlling is my experience of it. And I suppose that's really all that counts. All that exists, maybe.